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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28178343">Stitch By Stitch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orcsmoocher/pseuds/orcsmoocher'>orcsmoocher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Nightbound (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Gay Male Character, Knitter Nik Ryder, M/M, a light smattering of nik ryder angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:33:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28178343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orcsmoocher/pseuds/orcsmoocher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some mindless fluffy Nik/MC that I wrote in half-asleep delirium.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nik Ryder/Main Character (Nightbound), Nik Ryder/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stitch By Stitch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rain pattered gently against the drafty window of Nik's one-bedroom apartment. Outside, it was cold and miserable, but inside he was as pleased as pie. Or at least as pleased as he could be, which was surprisingly quite a lot, apparently. Though that was mostly due to the company he had tonight, perking his ears a little to the side as his partner's gentle humming became a bit quieter underneath the sounds of the filet knife striking his cutting board. It was noisy, compared to the abject silence he usually enjoyed. Outside, the wind howled. Inside, the noise didn't stop. There was the sound of his partner slicing fish for dinner, his singing, the soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>click click</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the knitting needles perched in Nik's hands… even the purring of his partner's Perrikin curled in Nik's blanketed lap was deafening. Despite all of this … well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruckus </span>
  </em>
  <span>was a strong word, but despite all of these sounds he wasn't used to hearing, he was perfectly comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Compared to the state it was in three years ago, his pathetic little apartment was a perfectly serviceable palace. It used to be practically a prison cell cluttered with… clutter, his eccentric little collection of oddities scattered over every surface with little rhyme or reason, his furniture cheap and falling apart. He wasn't a messy individual - there was no garbage strewn over the room, save for a few empty beer bottles every now and then - but his modus operandi for sorting everything else was essentially just 'throw it where it'd fit.' With help from his partner (and equal parts nagging) he managed to clean everything, and even replace most of his furniture. Instead of the usual black faux-leather couch, whose stuffing was compressed into solidity and cover torn threadbare from years of use, he laid now on a plush Fae-built sofa. Its cushions were filled with what felt like clouds shrouded in wine-red velvet, its frame made of smooth and polished lavender wood. The best part of it was that when holding his magic-detecting charms up, it led him straight to the couch every time - so it also fed into his obsession for hoarding magical objects. It was a nice couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When did you take up knitting?" His partner, Celestine, asked, peeking over from the tiny kitchen area. He sliced the fish without pause, despite his attention drifting elsewhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nik stopped for a moment, then continued. "On-and-off for a few years, I guess. It's just something to keep the fingers nimble," he said, looking over the fledgling square of wool forming on the needles. Usually he used the cheapest wool he could find, unravelling it when it was done and starting over again. It wasn't the destination he was after, but the journey it took to get there… he didn't remember exactly when he took it up, but he did remember Elijah's playful ribbing of his new hobby - and his encouragement. It was clear that the monotony of such a task kept him calm and focused, 'staving off the grief' if there was such a thing. Branching off, practical purposes emerged: from knitting he eventually taught himself how to sew, then repair his own clothes - just another step he took to becoming fully independent once his parental figures were out of the picture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding the soft, silky wool in his hands, its fibers dyed delicately into a perfect gradient, Nik decided that there wasn't a purely practical purpose for this one. The spool of wool he bought was expensive and decadent, each stitch performed carefully, with intricate ones that he'd normally never bother with adorning his work's edges. Unlike his usual works, he knew exactly what he wanted out of it and who to give it to. He heard Celestine giggle from the kitchen. "You're so cute," he said, which made Nik snort and shake his head humorously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah. There's absolutely nothing cute about what I'm doing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Celestine replied, nodding as if that was the correct response. He tossed a strip of raw salmon into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Did you pick up the needles again for me?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it!” Celestine grinned, a gesture so saccharinely sweet and cute that it almost made Nik sick - he had a lot of talent in that way. He was amazed how despite all the fucked-up shit that half-Fae saw over the years living in the windy city, his smile never seemed to lose its luster. Even during the sleepless nights where he succumbed to violent memories of death and dark magic or what-have-you, he never let them beat him down. Setting how put-together his partner seemed… was admittedly frustrating. To the half-Fae, the world was still full of wonders and kindness despite mounting evidence of the opposite… Nik shrugged. His own jealousy wasn’t his partner’s problem - Celestine was happy and safe, and Nik was damn content keeping him that way. Though he did hope that one day his live-in-the-moment, hope-filled attitude would rub off on Nik one day, even for a moment. “That’s so sweet, Nik.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nik smiled warmly as yarn met yarn, needle met needle. He was also amazed at how easily those little gestures of happiness came to him these days. There were times before they’d met where he could count the amount of times he smiled in a week on one hand, and others where he just felt numb without a drink going down his gullet, and it’s been that way since as long as he could remember - head barely above the water, with no one to pull you out and monsters in the deep pulling you under… and of course, one of those monsters is you while the rest are frighteningly literal. That’s kind of a Nighthunter’s specialty, as no one actually enters the profession because they </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, except for Celestine, he supposed, but that was just because Nik was a bad influence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, well,” Nik said in mock dismissiveness. A little flush heated his cheeks, but not noticeable to the eye. It was just an involuntary reaction on his part, a little rush of emotion that finally came to him after years of numbness and fake overconfidence that he displayed for his clients. He wiggled his needles, guiding stitches into place as the gears in his head turned. His fingers gently curled around the working strand. Up and around, over and under. On one side of the slowly growing scarf, a gorgeous, soft and smooth stitch - but on the other formed a more texturous ribbed pattern. It was strange, but he’d started getting used to the 'real' Nik behind all those mental walls that he'd constructed over the years - hidden so deeply within horror-wrought cages of trauma and hopelessness that even he forgot what it was like. To be strong, he meant; strong enough to let himself be vulnerable sometimes. Strong enough to face his fears, instead of hiding them underneath a stiff façade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to say he was fixed - because he wasn't broken. Embittered, maybe, no longer holding onto the image of an innocent world of black and white; but not broken. How damn surreal was it that he'd be able to admit that about himself? Very much so, was the answer - and it was even stranger than some of the amorphous critter-monsters that lurked in the bayou's magical depths. He still had a long ways to go, a lot of nasty habits to shed and healthy mindsets to coax into their places… and it was a hard road that would have never been taken if not for the fact that he wasn't alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” Nik let out a relaxed, steady breath. His partner was perhaps more important than the half-Fae would ever, ever know… and while Nik liked to keep some of his cards close to his heart, that fact was not one of them. Slowly, little by little, he learned how to express that in his own, genuine way. He wasn't good with emotions, he wasn't good with long fancy words or poems or love letters, and he wasn't good at picking out gifts. Hell, he couldn't even muster up the care for himself sometimes, let alone another person that he had to put his trust into. It seemed like every time he did so, the ones he loved got hurt… but for Celestine, he would try his damndest - he would let himself love. Just like he loved his parents, just like he loved Elijah, just like he loved Tay. It hurt like hell and it was terrifying: Celestine reminded him so much of who he lost in the past, which only made him fear the future - if patterns held, then eventually he'd lose his half-Fae, too, and that loss would gouge yet another hole into his scarred heart like a knife twisted into the eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he would try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up and over, around and under - stitch by stitch, Nik constructed the first of many physical proclamations of his love. His vocabulary often held back the emotion that he desperately wanted to convey through spoken word, and when he wrote he just couldn't think of the proper sentences… but what couldn't be taken away was his observations, his quiet noticings of his partner's hobbies and passions. Celestine loved clothes, so Nik would pour his heart and soul into a piece that he was confident that would be as deeply appreciated as the effort that was put into it. No gift that his hands didn't put together with love and effort would be good enough for feisty, sweet Celestine. After all, he was taught on the principle of 'if you wanted it done, do it your damn self'. With that thought, a hand drifted to his pocket and patted it, as if checking if it was still there. Inside lay a small, thin business card of Dr. Sima, her office number neatly printed in black ink on the front and a personal cellphone number written in ballpoint pen on the back. While it was Celestine who initially revealed the road by making him see that he needed - no, deserved - help, the path itself was his to take as rocky as it may be. While thinking that 'a better Nik' would be the greatest gift of all, he realized that he wanted it just as much... the effort of bettering himself was put forward for his partner's sake, but it was for him as well. It made it easier that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Celestine smiled wide, the man's eyes positively sparkling like sequins. "I love you too, Nik..." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner, the pair curled up in bed to share an intimate night, but it was preceded and followed by the gentle, rhythmic tune of Nik's knitting needles. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so, so sorry that I haven't updated in like a year for all three people who read my fics! lol. I haven't stopped writing at all, but this is the only thing that I've actually... finished.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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